


The Cabin

by thatforgottenbasilisk



Series: tumblr asks [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Damien video, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatforgottenbasilisk/pseuds/thatforgottenbasilisk
Summary: Stumbling through the icy forest, you come upon a lone cabin in the woods- you're desperate for refuge, so you have no choice to go in. - Discord prompt from @coffee-bean-boishe also said, and i quote,“heck the canon,”so let’s go bois
Series: tumblr asks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557526
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	The Cabin

The blizzard is raging outside, and you’re in a seemingly endless forest. You could be going in circles for all you know; all the trees look identical. Every step is a struggle to take, and you can hardly see past your nose in the snow. Still, you continue onward - there has to be shelter somewhere.

You see it. Far in the distance, though it may only be a few feet, a large smudge of darkness that is definitely not a tree. Forcing your feet forward, the smudge begins to come into focus.

It’s a cabin. A small, wooden cabin. Despite your horror movie senses telling you not to go into the admittedly very conveniently placed cabin in the woods, it doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice. You decide that your chances with whatever horror movie monster is in there are better than they are outside, and open the door.

The cabin is, at first glance, probably not where a horror movie monster would choose to haunt. There are hardly any nooks or crannies to creep out of, and, judging from the outside, no hidden rooms, either. There is a fireplace, and within it is a small fire, one that will die soon; above it hang two hooks, presumably to hold some kind of weapon. There is a table and chair to your right, and to your left is a bare wall.

You close the door to keep out the cold. A grumble comes from a bed that you hadn’t noticed. It appears to be occupied by a man.

“You’re back already? Aren’t you usually out longer -”

The man had rolled over and seen you. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Sorry to bother you, but this has to be the only shelter for miles, and I’m really lost...”

“No, it’s okay! I’m just surprised. Do I know you?”

The man’s brows were furrowed in thought. He was sitting up now.

“No, I don’t think so. If it’s alright with you, I’ll just ride out the storm and be on my way.”

“That’s fine with me. I swear I’ve seen you before, though.”

The man looked vaguely familiar, in an odd sort of way. He had the sort of familiarity about him as someone that occasionally passed you in the halls at work, or an actor in a movie or show that you hadn’t seen. You settled into the chair at the table. You shook your head at him; you didn’t know him. Something that he said stuck out in your mind, however. When you closed the door, he’d asked, _‘back already?’_ Was he expecting someone?

“Is there anyone else who lives in this cabin, besides yourself?”

“Ah, yes, my sister. Celine. She’s out hunting right now.” _In this blizzard?_

You were about to inquire more about the man’s mysterious sister when his face snapped into a look of recognition.

“Y/N!” He had a bit of a smile on his face, like he was proud of himself after solving a particularly difficult puzzle.

“How do you know my name? I don’t - I haven’t seen you before.”

The man (he still hadn’t introduced himself) returned to a state of plain confusion.

“Of course you have! It’s me, Damien. Do you not remember me, old friend?”

 _Damien._ Why did that name ring a bell? You don’t know _any_ Damiens, much less the one sitting across from you!

“I’m sorry, but you must have me confused for someone else -”

“No!” He abruptly stood, and began to pace the short length of the cabin, with one hand running through his hair (it looked unnaturally unkempt, as though you were used to seeing it more contained, it would look more natural if it were slicked back) and the other was making wild gestures, as though he meant to conjure the appropriate words from thin air. “No, I know _you._ You’re the District Attorney. We were just at the party together...how are we here?”

This was getting weirder and weirder by the second. You didn’t doubt Damien, not even for an instant, because he put such conviction into what he was saying that you couldn’t help but mentally construct a scene, him greeting you with slick hair in an old-timey suit with a pin that said “Mayor,” and the both of you inside some enormous mansion - _snap out of it!_ This man - Damien - was nothing but a stranger you met in a random cabin you hid in for shelter rather than be lost in the middle of a forest during a blizzard. He wasn’t some Mayor, and you weren’t a District Attorney, you were just someone who got lost in the forest!

 _Why were you in the forest in the first place?_ A small voice in the back of your head asked, and of course, the answer was obvious, why were you even asking why you were in the forest? Until you tried to remember the reason.

You couldn’t come up with an answer. Suddenly, you felt very, very vulnerable. Why were you here? Why - what happened? Unconsciously, you drew in on yourself, trying to come up with some sort of logical explanation. The more you questioned things, the less they made sense - you couldn’t even think of what your _job_ was, for crying out loud! You couldn’t remember your parents’ names, faces, voices - did you even have parents? The details of your life, no, the majority of your life was gone! All you knew for sure was your name, and that you were in a cabin in the woods in the middle of winter with a strange man who seemed to be in the same boat as you.

The scene you thought of, with Damien and yourself at the mansion, even that felt more real than whatever reality this was. Even thinking of it in passing, more details sprang into your head - this party was a small get-together of old friends, hosted by one of your oldest friends of all -

“Mark’s party?”

 _Why_ did you say that out loud? That wasn’t real, it _couldn’t_ be, it was a figment of your imagination -

“Yes! We were at Mark’s party, and something happened. Something dreadful, I’m certain, though I cannot for the life of me think of _what_...”

It was in this moment that the door burst open. A woman, with the same sort of familiarity about her as Damien, walked in with a gun and a rabbit, that she had presumably hunted for food. She slammed the door shut to keep from the cold.

“Celine, don’t slam the door.”

So this must be his sister. They appeared to be the same age (perhaps twins? She was the older one. There was nothing telling you this, but you knew it as certainly as you knew that Damien, whoever he was, was a trustworthy person). She shook herself a bit to dust the snow off of her jacket and hair, and turned towards you.

She froze, completely and totally, as though she’d been blindsided by something. Or someone.

She stared into your eyes, but it felt like she was boring into your very soul, searching for something, but you had no idea what.

“Y/N. How the _hell_ are you alive?”


End file.
